


Reaching Out

by dirtydeedsdonedirtcheap



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: HPFT, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 02:59:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15621027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirtydeedsdonedirtcheap/pseuds/dirtydeedsdonedirtcheap
Summary: The best things in life aren't things.





	Reaching Out

** Reaching Out **

 

I think my heart stopped beating the moment our eyes connected. I’m sure of it. You see, I had never felt like I did that day. Of course, a few years later when I got married and my children were born I felt it again. It’s memorable for me because that day we became _connected_. We weren’t _just_ friends anymore.

 

We became _more_.

 

When I woke-up I knew something was wrong. Normally, I woke-up to Gran making noise around the house. The floorboards always squeaked underneath her weight as she busied around the kitchen cooking breakfast. It was quiet that day. There was no squeaking of floorboards or banging of pots and pans. Instead, there was just one screech of a chair and a sharp intake of breath. A loud heart-wrenching sob made me jump out of bed. I didn’t even pause to slip my feet into a pair of slippers, wincing as they touched the cold floor.

 

Without a second thought my feet rushed through the house, making unnecessary noise until I reached Gran. I wrapped my arms around her shaking body. The fear of her pain overwhelmed me. Was she hurt? Was she sick?

 

“Gran?” I questioned hoarsely, unable to go on.

 

It was my parents, of course it was. That’s what it had to be. My parents were finally gone. Madness had consumed them and now they were…they were… _dead_. I had long ago accepted they would come back to me. I would never know the warmth of a hug from my Mum or experience a strong talking to from my Dad.

 

Wordlessly, Gran shifted underneath my hold. Her hands reached out for the _Daily Prophet_ that was on the rickety wooden table infront of her, unfolded. She pointed a shaking finger to the front page, a sorrowful look on her face.

 

“Fire in…Death Eaters…seven injured…” I paused, unable to read more as the picture of the black-and-white flames ingrained itself in my mind.

 

The War was over but a year later tensions still ran high. The Aurors were doing everything in their power to capture all of the Death Eaters and followers of Voldemort. In the dead of the night people were being injured, fights were behind held in dark alleys and pain racked every wizard in England.

 

“Gran,” I whispered, embracing her again. “It’s going to be alright. You’re safe. _We’re_ safe. I’m not going to let anything happen to use,” I promised. I gave her a tight loving squeeze in an attempt to ease her pain.

 

She sniffled and nodded her head. Tears were rolling down her wrinkled cheeks.

 

“I want to go down there. We’ll bring some food. Tom…he was my _friend_.” She hiccupped at the word ‘friend’ and my heart broke. “I want to go down there. I want to go down there.”

 

She repeated the sentence again and again, gripping my hand until she found her strength again.

 

It wasn’t even light outside yet.

****

* * *

 

 

“Gran, you be careful!” I shouted worriedly for the third time, shielding my eyes from the sun and squinting at my grandmother who waved her hand at me.

 

Once the sun rose she had found a new energy inside of her. Instead of crying, though I myself found my tears wetting her satin nightcap, she quickly busied herself and made as many muffins as she could for those assisting in the clean-up of the attack.

 

“Neville!”

 

I turned quickly at my name. My blue eyes fell on a disheveled Harry Potter. There was soot on his nose and there were dark circles underneath his eyes. It looked like he hadn’t gotten any sleep in quite some time, which was starting to become the new normal.

 

“Harry,” I said his name warmly, reach my hand out to shake his. He wasn’t much of a hugger.

 

Behind him were Ron and Hermione. Both were covered with soot and arguing with each other.

 

“Can you believe this?” Hermione asked angrily. She shook her head with disbelief. “I know I can’t! When I find out who exactly did this—“ she started, face flushed with anger.

 

Ron rubbed her back and shushed her.

 

“They attacked the family store too. How do you think I feel?! I was _this_ close to capturing them. If I hadn’t been so far—“

 

Hermione rolled her eyes, bemused. “If you hadn’t been sleeping on the job, _again_.”

 

Ron blushed.

 

I had to stop myself from snorting out loud. They were so in love it was a bit sickening at times.

 

“They knocked a rubbish bin over which _you_ tripped on. You’re lucky Percy was around—“

 

Ron huffed at the mention of his brother. His ears turned a deep red as he crossed his arms against his chest. He glared at Hermione. The two suddenly forgot there were others around them as they continued to bicker.

 

“ _Percy!_ ” he shouted with horror. “Percy did _not_ save me. Will you stop telling people that? He was in the loo. I told you, that’s what we’re going to tell people.”

 

Harry and I both snorted. We turned away from them and gave each other a knowing look. Some people, no matter what, would never change. Ron Weasley was one of those people.

 

I meekly patted Harry on the back, making him sigh loudly. He looked pale and so worn down. Harry looked as if he had aged twenty years overnight. Between restoring Hogwarts, Diagon Alley and other places, he was starting to look much older than his age. I found his eyes rarely shined unless Ginny was around.

 

“Some days, I think it’s useless,” he admitted quietly. “Some days I think it’s utterly pointless. They attacked…no, they _murdered_ all of the owls in the Owl Emporium. Who does that?” he questioned, analyzing the destruction around us.

 

Several buildings were charred. There were windows that were missing and so were a few doors.

 

I sighed and shook my head. After all of these years I wasn’t surprised. Murdering innocent animals wasn’t beneath them.

 

“Harry, they’re same people that murdered our friends. They’re the same people that tore our families apart. He’s _gone_. He’s _dead_. We just have to deal with the aftermath and the few people that still believe in his cause,” I murmured, squeezing his shoulder.

 

He nodded wordlessly. After a few moments of deafening silence he mumbled something about having to look for Ginny and walked off to leave me to my own dark thoughts.

 

I didn’t like to think properly about things. I didn’t want to really sit down and contemplate what had happened once the war ended. After I killed Nagini everything became a blur. The deaths of my friends jumbled together into this one big pit of painful depression that I couldn’t handle alone. My main focus was and always would be Gran.

 

I didn’t have time to grieve.

 

I closed my eyes and took three deep breaths, inhaling and exhaling loudly. I was close to losing my cool. The destruction was too much to handle.

 

Hogwarts, I understood. The final battle had been fought and won there, but here? Diagon Alley?

 

And that’s when it happened. I opened my eyes and finally faced the destruction head on. Flourish and Blotts was completely burned down. Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour was still boarded up. Someone had foolishly tried to burn it to the ground even though the owner was dead.

 

I felt a sob threatening to escape from me. If I broke down now I would not be able to piece myself back together.

 

I was frozen in my spot as if something or someone had hit me with a sticking charm. I couldn’t lift my arm. I couldn’t move my leg. I gulped and then took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves.

 

“Neville.”

 

At the sound of my name I was brought back to reality. The weight of the world crashed on my shoulders but I brushed it away momentarily. It was not my moment to grieve.

 

“Luna,” I said, embracing her.

 

She smiled at me. One of her odd smiles that only she could pull off. Her radish earrings were dirty but they still swayed as she cocked her head to the side, grey eyes giving me a calculated once over.

 

“You look healthy,” she said.

 

Uncomfortable, I didn’t know how to respond. I tugged at my tight jumper and nodded curtly. I wasn’t sure if it was an insult or a compliment but I really couldn’t be bothered to decipher her words.

 

“Have you seen Harry?” she questioned. “I think his brain is muddled with Wrackspurts. It’s a shame…” she murmured, eyes glazing over.

 

I shook my head, unsure of what to say.

 

“Wrackspurts…right.” I offered. I still didn’t know what Nargles were after all these years. Wrackspurts were a whole other conversation I didn’t want to bother with.

 

“Do you hear that?” I questioned, cupping my ear with my hands.

 

She shook her head, suddenly alert, blonde hair swishing from side to side.

 

“No.”

 

“I think my Gran is calling me,” I said. I felt slightly guilty at the lie but talking to Luna suddenly felt exhausting. “Gran, is that you? Are you looking for me!” I shouted. “I’m coming!”

 

Luna craned her neck and turned her head from left to right in an attempt to hear what I was pretending.

 

“I don’t hear anything,” she said, puzzled.

 

I nodded my head and scratched the back of my neck quickly. I was never good when it came to lying.

 

“Errr…she’s worried about the muffins she made. They’re kind of covered…in dirty,” I mumbled pathetically. “Try not to eat one if she comes by. They might have you on the toilet for the rest of the day. Well, cheerio! I’m got to be off.”

 

She said nothing as I gave her a half hug and shuffled quickly towards the direction Gran had gone off earlier. I didn’t bother making conversation with anyone else as I passed. Mr. Weasley was throwing his arms in the air and shouting about how he was sure Draco Malfoy was involved in this. Harry was impatiently rolling his eyes next to him.

 

I found Gran sitting outside The Leaky Cauldron. Well, what was left of it any way. She was a ghostly white. It was as if she had been shocked all the way to her core. She was shaking slightly and gripping her basket.

 

“Gran?” I whispered lightly.

 

Startled, she whipped her head up quickly, the vulture on her hat poking me in the eye. I winced.

 

“Are you crying?”

 

She sniffled and aggressively handed me the basket that was housing her blueberry muffins.

 

“Tom…he used to like my muffins,” she mumbled. “He always wanted the recipe but I refused. I don’t know why. It wasn’t like they were a family secret.” She hiccupped and wiped at her eyes. “I can’t go in there,” she said defiantly, eyeing the basket.

 

Without saying a word I started to walk the short distance from Gran to the entrance of The Leaky. My nose wrinkled at the strong scent of burned wood. The inside was worse than the outside. Stools were thrown to the floor. Some were covered in soot and the ceiling was broken in some sections. Wood paneling was hanging freely and swinging with the wind. I had to duck in certain places. I vaguely wondered where they found Tom’s body but pushed the thought from my mind.

 

One hand gripped Gran’s basket while the other grazed the tables that were left. I rubbed the soot away to see if I could make the wood appear like it had before.

 

I continued to walk around, unalarmed by the ruined state the entire place was in but almost shrieked as a blonde head appeared. The woman attached to the head was scrubbing vigorously at a countertop and cursing under her breath.

 

“Damn!” she shouted with frustration, dropping her dirty rag to the floor. “Damn!” A slight sob escaped her frail body.

 

I coughed to capture her attention. She jumped and turned around. She quickly wiped at the tears that were rolling down her filthy cheeks.

 

I had never seen someone look so painfully beautiful before.

 

“Hannah? Are you…” I stopped myself from asking her if she was alright.

 

She obviously wasn’t. Why would she be? I tried to think of something else to say and ended up weakly holding up the blue basket. “Muffin?” I offered.

 

Hannah chuckled and shook her head, rejecting my offer. Her blonde hair was caked with ash, which made it appear darker. I’m sure her lungs were coated with it as well because she coughed numerously into her hand. Her lips were slightly black.

 

My heart stopped for the second time that day. I felt frozen in place as she gingerly tucked a piece of dirty blonde hair behind her ear.

 

“My Gran made them,” I said, trying to make conversation and regain my composure.

 

She looked at me with confusion. “What?”

 

“T—the muffins? They were Tom’s favorite.”

 

At the mention of Tom a small sob escaped her lips. She shook her head painfully.

 

I cringed and walked slowly towards her, almost closing the gap between us. She struggled to regain her composure.

 

“Seven injured, one dead. How could they do that? Murder him? He was nice to everyone,” she whispered.

 

I nodded my head in silent agreement. My stomach was in knots. It felt like someone was squeezing their hand around my heart. I could feel her pain. I wasn’t sure what to say in this situation. He lived a good life sounded cold.

 

“This place was his life!” she shouted angrily. “It was his life and now it’s gone. He’s gone. This is _my_ home. He gave me a job and a place to live. Now, it’s all gone.”

 

Her voice broke towards the end and she flung her arms around my neck, sobbing freely.

 

With my one free hand I rubbed her back, trying to calm her down.

 

“Hannah,” I said, pausing because if I screwed this up my heart would have shattered in my chest. “The best things in life aren’t thing.”

 

She didn’t respond but held onto me tighter, cutting off some of my air supply.

 

“The rooms are destroyed, the chairs have been burned and the food that has spoiled don’t matter—“

 

She gulped and viciously let go of me. Her face was filled with an angry expression.

 

“How can you say that?”

 

I dropped the basket to the floor. The muffins fell out and were now covered with ash as they littered the floor.

 

“Are you hurt? No. You’re alive. Just because your home is gone doesn’t mean your mind is. You’re capable of restoring this place. Ask someone to help you until you get back on your feet. Compared to others you’re luckier, think about that Hannah. You’re alive.”

 

I gave her an uneasy glance. I was ready for the backlash. I was certain she would scream at me or throw a muffin at my head. Instead, she sniffled and stared into my eyes. Her own softened.

 

A pale hand ran through her dirty blonde hair and a small playful smile appeared on her lips.

 

“When did you start giving such great advice?”

 

Her voice was slightly husky and I couldn’t help but blush. Thankfully, it was dark in the room. A slight grin appeared on my face as I stared at her.

 

I wanted to say when I first laid eyes on you earlier in the day. When I noticed the soot in your blonde hair and the expression on your face when you stood outside, the sun momentarily lighting you up for the world to see but the world was too preoccupied to take notice.

 

The words were in my throat, threatening to rush out in a jumbled mess but instead I leaned forward and grabbed her small dirty hands.

 

“Come with me,” I said, smiling shyly.

 

She nervously grinned and squeezed my hand. “Where too?” she questioned.

 

 

I shrugged and led her towards the rundown entrance of The Leaky Cauldron.

 

“Outside. To face reality and to get some fresh air. To start living again.”

 

She paused and squeezed my hand again for some comfort. Then she led _me_ outside. She was filled with a new sense of hope.

 

The best things in life aren’t things. No, the best things in life are people and the moments you share with them, the pain you can carry for them and the love you have for them.

 

The best thing in my life was squeezing my hand very gently.


End file.
